Kommencement Korner

Recently, our archivist stumbled across a transcript. You're probably thinking, "So what? I bet the intrepid Kaptains of Kreation unearth similar documents daily." Well, you're right. But you're also very, very wrong. This sheaf of papers is not another mere document whose only use is to be crumpled and thrown into a trash can in a vain forgery of basketball. It is in fact a transcription of a keynote speech our man Chris Peebles delivered for the Kansas Intermountain Alternative Arts College Class of 2008 (Go Chimeras!). Regrettably, we at The Korner inadvertently destroyed the original Super 8 footage of the address during a peyote-fueled kroquet sesh (session). Before you start screaming and drive a fist through your monitor, we have good news. The highly nuanced visual element of Peebles' speech is not lost forever. Our very own Gabe Gabriel was present at the event, and--as Peebles' inspiring words and actions were forever emblazoned into his memory--was able to go through the transcript and add annotations, flawlessly capturing the entire experience. So sit back, relax, and be jealous that this wasn't your commencement address (that is, unless you're a member of the KIAAC class of '08):

"Was there something innate in our founding fathers' DNA?"
Peebles shakes his head slowly back and forth three times, then does a single high kick with his right leg
"If B.D. Wong injected Thomas Jefferson's mummified essence into an ostrich egg, what would it yield?"
Peebles kneels, brandishes a can of pineapple Fanta, then pours the contents on his head
"Would a swivel-chair-inventing constitution machine burst forth from its calcium carbonate confines?"
Peebles runs in a large circle counterclockwise around the stage three times, jumps in place whilst clapping for approximately nine seconds, and then does a somersault back to the podium
"Or would we just get a bird, flightless and bearing too few feathers to make a decent pillow?"
Peebles straddles the provost seated at the end of the stage and makes a "raise the roof" gesture as he thrusts his hips vigorously
"They never used T.J.'s feathers to make a head cushion."
Peebles produces a single red rose from his pocket, sets it ablaze with a pistol-shaped cigarette lighter, then hurls the flower at the flag of Kansas
"Nor Ben Franklin's, for that matter."
Peebles flaps his arms wildly six to eleven times and then screams, "innovation!"
"In the end, these men met far better fates, which is what we should all hope for."
Peebles wraps the mic chord around his left arm, then inscribes a letter "m" on his Adam's apple with a magenta Sharpie he had removed from a houndstooth fedora beneath the podium just moments before
"Not just the alchemy majors."
With a wry smile, Peebles points a finger at the graduates. Scattered laughter ensues followed by several muffled coughs
"You kids are the future."
Peebles' form explodes into an orgy of skipping, jumping, twirling, fist-pumping, head-shaking, foot-tapping, hand-flailing and various other fiercely kreative bodily expressions. Suddenly, Peebles freezes, as if stricken, and crumples to the floor in a supine position. Peebles remains motionless on stage until the end of the commencement exercises at which point several security guards drag him offstage.

Kounterpoint Korner

Good day (English for guten tag)! As you may have noticed, The Kreation Korner's maverick kommentator Peter Doe recently issued some brutally articulate statements about England (the country), calling into question her kreative merit. In no way disparaging Mr. Doe's intellect or judgement skills, we--The Kreation Korner Staff--humbly disagree with his indictment. We actually have compelling evidence in the form of an image that proves that the entire United Kingdom (with the exception of several towns in Scotland) is in fact a vibrant outpost of kreativity.


This photo was taken by a Korner field operative in West London. The origin of the word "kew" has long been a subject of debate for academics and kreationists alike. As best as our etymology department (not to be confused with our now defunct entomology department) can tell, "kew" is an ancient Celtic word meaning imaginivity--which is, as a concept, startlingly similar to kreativity. Even more startling are the implications of this diskovery. How far back do the roots of kreationism in England go? Is this purveyor of nicotine and print media the last vestige of some iteration of kreation kulture millennia old? Or is it one of four or five vestiges, each one more shrouded in mystery than the last? What is clear is that the spirit of Kreationism is stalwartly established in the British Isles.

Nearly two months ago, we presented to you a German artifact bearing similar implications. We don't know exactly what these signs mean or when the next one will appear, but what is clear is that we are not alone in the [kreationism] universe. At The Korner, we firmly advise you--and all our readers for that matter--not to panic. Are these symbols of a sinister nature, perhaps the doings of an ill-intentioned worldwide konspiracy? We don't know. All we can do at this point is keep our heads up and kontinue kreating like it's nobody's business.

Hang in there,

The Kreation Krew

Kommentary Korner

I won't deny it. After my sabbatical in England (the country), I'm glad to be back in America, The United States of. As you know, this country has a way of getting my goat at an alarming ramming speed a la 1959's Ben-Hur. But this goat-getting pales in comparison to the extra-flagrant goat-getting I received across the pond (which, to my surprise, was actually more of an ocean). My goat was gotten over there in a way I only thought possible in the most far-fetched of science fiction radio plays. That miserable isle actually achieved the impossible feat of making the U.S. look semi-tolerable. If I had a sentimental tendon in my body, I would say that even missed this nation.
I'm sure by now your wondering, "what are you wearing?" But what I'll tell you instead is why I traveled to Britain, pervert.
My intentions for visiting Britannica Firma were honest enough, but I wasn't, to my disgust, met halfway. I hoped to clear my head, get a knew perspective on life--all that shit. Rather than finding an enlightened cultural and artistic bastion of capital-k Kreationist proportions, I found an intellectual cesspool riddled with poorly planned avenues of ignorance and bad taste (I'm not referring to the food, which was actually quite good).
I could go on for a fortnight addressing my many beefs with the so called "United Kingdom," but instead I'll focus on one in particular which I feel pretty much sums up my assorted grievances. What I'm speaking of is Britain's baffling, unrefined, kreativity-killing ripoff of the American language. Everything about it is off. They call an elevatortruck a "liftlory." What the hell is that? And get this: they refer to a frenchfryline as a "chipqueue." Seriously? That sounds like some sort of liver disease--which I'm sure is rampant in that booze-soaked country. The list goes on: policeofficertrunk = "bobbyboot." Bottomlawyer = "bumbarrister." Gasolinecigarette = "petrolfag." Another particularly unsavory example is "pramtorch." What does this mean? If you guessed strollerflashlight then you're correct. You're also a fucking Tory who should be tarred and feathered if you're not already.
I have merely scratched the surface of Britain's pervasive and probably intentional bastardization of English. Any people who so skullduggerously corrupt a perfect language are certainly bereft of any semblance of kreativity.
I can now understand our founding fathers, putty-brained as they were. To depart from my policy of never being grateful, I'm grateful that these otherwise incompetent men were able to accidentally stumble upon the good decision-making skills necessary for expelling their unkreative, amoral oppressors. --Peter Doe

Fiction Korner

Upon cursory visual inspection, Bobby appeared to be suited up. Undeniably so. I felt compelled to pop the big question.
"Whatcha suited up for there, Bobby?" I inquired, voice aquiver.
Everyone was wondering it, but I was the only one be-huevoed enough to ask--though admittedly at the expense of some bladder control.
Rather than replying to me, Bobby began to play his "it-is-impossible-for-me-to-respond-to-you-by-virtue-of-the-fact-that-I-have-no-senses" game. Typical.
Bobby was easily the third worst ear, nose and throat doctor I have ever had. --Jawn Steighmeaus

Poet's Korner

one-sided conversation #347

well, i was supposed to meet her at the mall, but she didn't show
UP.

well, see, yeah, i was supposed to meet her at the mall,
she was supposed to meet me there,
but she didn't show up. i don't think i can TRUST her, man.

yeah, i told her to meet me at the, umm, MALL. but she didn't show up, you know?


no, no, see, we were supposed to meet up at the mall like a HALF-HOUR ago.
she was supposed to,
i planned to MEET her there. yeah. i just don't think she can be, uhh, trusted.

-nathan Rhombus

Konsolation Korner

This week we have lost a true komrade in kreationism, the beautiful human known as Lux Interior. He has influenced each and every one of us at the Korner and will be sorely missed. We leave you with a prime example of the things we loved most about Lux -- his energy; his soul; and, perhaps most of all, his ill-fitting leather pants.

Header Korner

Hello, you of the wondrous and strange multitudes! Today we bring before you yet another slice of fried gold in the form of a brand-new header piece. The featured artist is Art Cretaceo. What has Art to say about his art? Well, we were wondering the same, so we had a little sit-down with him to figure out what makes Art tick.

KK: Who are you?

AC: I'd like to say I'm a visionary and a guiding light. Always maintaining a clear vantage point on the events of the day, the year, the times. Like a pterosaur in flight, really.

KK: Art, what do you think is the purpose of your art?

AC: My intent is threefold, much like the horns of a Triceratops. First, to shock. Second, to awaken. Third, to incite.

KK: Any words for the readers?

AC: In fact, yes. In this crazy world, we must be ever-vigilant against the hucksters, the alarmists, and the hooligans. We must navigate the world with all the agility of a clever dilophosaur, all the steady intent of a methodical diplodocid, and all the fierce confidence of the mighty Tyrannosaur.

KK: A final question. Do you draw inspiration from anything in particular, perhaps from the natural realm?

AC: Dinosaurs.

KK: Art, thanks for your time.